Finally
by isis whit
Summary: A coincidence brings Sam and Bailey together....


Disclaimer: Profiler and its characters don't belong to me, they belong to NBC, Cynthia Saunders, Sander/Moses Productions, Stephen Kronish (although he doesn't deserve to own those wonderful characters), Three Putt Productions, and I guess now to CourtTV too. No copyright infringement is intended.

Classification: SBR, SBR, SBR

Rated: PG 13

Spoilers for 'Reunion' I guess.   
  


'Finally'   
(To Dr. S.)

by [isis_whit][1]

The door behind him fell shut. He took off his hat to shake the raindrops off, then he looked around in the little store. It felt warm and cozy in here compared to the torrential rain that was covering the city with a gray impenetrable veil. In here, the sun still seemed to shine. Since he had discovered "Daniele's" about a year ago, he came here from time to time, mostly for shopping some real Italian specialties. But whenever there was a quiet day at the VCTF, he sometimes walked the short distance from the VCTF Headquarters to sit down at one of the five small tables and enjoy some of Daniele's legendary home made pasta. This Saturday he was going to be the cook. He smiled to himself when he thought about Frannie's call. Her stay with him had been planned for several weeks, and when she had called yesterday, he was worried that she was going to tell him she would not come. Instead she just wanted to remind him of what he promised her for their first evening together: Some of his famous linguine.

He was the only customer in the store, and he figured that Daniele probably had not heard him come in, since he was busy with preparing fresh pasta back in the kitchen. He used the time to look around, picked up some bottles of red wine, carefully examining the labels. He took a step closer to the shop window to get some more light. Suddenly he felt a gaze on him. He looked up. The woman with the red umbrella seemed to look right into his eyes. He knew those eyes, never would he forget that blue. Staring at her, his heart was beating so loudly that he could hear it. A moment later she turned and walked on.

A million questions raced through his head. Didn't she see him? And if she did, why didn't she come in? Didn't she want to see him? Mechanically he had put down the bottle of wine on the counter. Without bothering to take his hat he stepped outside, the rain pouring down on him. Then he just started running in the direction she had disappeared. He didn't even feel that he bumped into people. His eyes were fixed on that red umbrella dancing up and down only a few yards in front of him, bus as hard as he tried to get closer, she still seemed out of reach. He was breathless when she finally was only a little more than an arm length away.

"Sam!" he called her.

She seemed to hesitate for a split second but then walked on. It was enough time for him to catch up on her. He reached for her arm. "Sam," he said again.

She stopped and, although he had hardly touched her, she turned around abruptly and with a very surprised look on her face. "Bailey?"

He was standing in front of her, breathless and dripping wet, unable to get out a single word. He searched her face for a hint that told him she was glad to see him after all. Finally their eyes locked, and then she gave him one of those shy, a little sad smiles he had missed more than he had admitted to himself.

Still speechless, he approached her. He wanted to hold her so badly and, even if he was still not sure about her feelings, he was defenseless against that smile. Without thinking twice, he put his arms around her, pulling her into a close embrace. He wanted to never let her go again and when he felt her hands on his back pulling him toward her, a relieved sigh he didn't even know he had held back came over his lips. He closed his eyes and gently pulled her head towards him, resting his cheek against her soft hair.

"I missed you, kid," he whispered hoarsely. The walls he had painfully put up since she had left broke down within a second. It only needed one look of her, one smile.

It was as if she had never been away. His arms felt so familiar. Sam buried her face in his shoulder, and the smell of the wet woolen fabric of his coat reminded her of numerous hours they had spent together at crime scenes on a rainy day out at some nameless place.

"You look like a wet cat, Malone," she giggled. He pulled away with a guilty look on his face and mumbled an embarrassed apology.

"Oh Bail, you haven't changed a bit. You're still thinking you are the cause and solution for everything, huh?" she teased and held the umbrella over both of them.

She looked into his deep brown eyes and, although heavy raindrops were dripping from his eyebrows, she could bet she had seen a tear. With his hands he tried to wipe his face dry and smoothed his wet hair back, a million questions in his look and not daring to ask one. "So, you're here," he finally stated as if he still did not trust his eyes. He buried his hands in his pockets and, with his shoulders drawn up, avoided her intense gaze.

Sam bit her upper lip slightly. She knew pretty well what was going on in his head. She thought a second before she answered. "Yeah, you're right, you deserve some answers. Why don't we look for a place where we can sit down and talk?"

He wanted to say yes, what are we waiting for, but he knew better. "Look, I wish I could but, you know, Frannie is going to come home. I don't have any groceries, and I'm already late. Her flight is due in," he paused, glanced at his watch and sighed. "Anyway, way too soon. I'm sorry."

She saw his disappointment and understood it all too well. She wanted nothing more than to finally talk to him. "Okay, I see you're in a hurry." She fumbled a little notebook out of her pocket and scribbled something down on it. Then she tore the page out and gave him the note. "That's my number." While he was still staring on the piece of paper she had just handed him over, she had already turned around and slowly continued her way down the street. He did not notice it before raindrops were smudging the pale blue handwriting on the thin white paper. He stuffed the note into a pocket of his coat.

"Sam?"

She stopped and looked back over her shoulder. "Call me when you're ready," she said and walking away she shouted after him "Oh, and get into some dry cloths!"

He was not sure if he had heard a little irritation in her voice. His eyes followed her until she turned gray and disappeared behind a wall of rain. "I'm gonna call you," he said to her, and people walking by gave him strange looks because he seemed to talk to himself.

With long heavy steps he returned to Daniele's where the owner himself already awaited him at the entrance door. "Signore Malone, boungiorno," he welcomed him.

"Buongiorno, Daniele. Come stai?" Bailey answered with a flawless pronunciation, and the two men shook hands.

"I see you run away, what happen'?" the gray-haired wiry Italian asked with a heavy accent and a melody in his voice that reminded Bailey of his grandfather.

"Oh, I just saw an old friend walk by I haven't seen in a long time," Bailey replied with a self-conscious smile.

"Ah, le donne," he said with a meaningful look and added "You look thin," and thin sounded more like 'feen', then he put a hand on Bailey's shoulder and led him in. "You are too busy, always hard working. And you have no time to come visit good old Daniele."

Bailey could not help but laugh. "Yeah, you're probably right, I haven't been here for quite a while. I hope you can help me with the ingredients for linguine agli scampi?"

"Oh, you're cooking for her, huh?"

"My daughter is coming, Daniele."

Thirty minutes later Bailey sat in his car, on the passenger seat beside him a paper bag filled with some fresh scampi, firm ripe tomatoes, fresh made pasta, and two bottles of dry Chardonnay. Besides, he had bought a whole assortment of antipasti that filled the car with a promising smell of fresh herbs and garlic.

At home, he threw the groceries into the fridge and hung his wet clothes up to dry. He felt cold but there was not enough time for a shower. He smiled to himself when he thought about Sam's words. How long she had been in town, he wondered, and somehow he hoped it wasn't long because that way he didn't have to ask another question: Why hadn't she called him earlier? After all, she had his number. He wanted to take a fresh suit out of the closet but changed his mind. Frannie hated it when he looked so "FBI", as she put it. He picked jeans, a T-shirt, and his leather jacket, all in black.

When he got back outside the sun was warming the wet street, and the air smelled light and flowery. He sat in the car, driving in trance as his thoughts drifted back to the strange encounter he had not long ago. Now it felt so unreal, and yet he knew he had touched her, talked to her. She was more beautiful than ever, he thought. The image of her, he could still see it clearly. It was no dream. It was a miracle that he reached the airport unharmed but he arrived safely, covered by that invisible shield that protects those who are in love from any harm. At the car park, he stopped the engine and closed his eyes. He focused on pushing the thoughts of Sam aside. His daughter was coming home from college and he wanted to be with her, he did not want to become distracted by melancholic thoughts about a lost love that had suddenly reappeared in his life.

He got himself together and made his way to the arrival terminal. He was really looking forward to see Frances again. He was so proud of how she had put her life back in line after all the trouble she had been into as a teenager. She had shot him, and never would he forget the images or the pain he had felt in that second, but never had he blamed her for what he had gone through. He had taken full responsibility, not only in court but also towards Frances and himself. He knew guilt would not help them and he was trying hard to overcome those feelings, but sometimes it was just stronger than him, and then he silently asked for a forgiveness he was unable to give himself.

"Daddy!" he heard a voice behind him, and when he turned around, Frances was standing in front of him.

He opened his arms and hugged her tightly. "Welcome my girl," he said. "I'm so happy you're here."

"Me too, daddy," she said, then pulled away. "And I'm hungry! They don't even offer peanuts on those cheap flights."

He laughed and then pointed to her baggage. "That's all yours, huh? Didn't know you plan to go on an around-the-world trip," he said with a mischievous grin.

"Hey! Don't think you'll get rid of me so soon, officer." She had called him that before but this time she was just teasing and he knew. He picked up her bags. "Let's get you home kid."

On their ride home, the time went by quickly as Frances gave her father an eloquent report of her trip down South. Back at the house, he helped her carrying the baggage to her old room before he left for the kitchen. He had already started cleaning the scampi and was so caught up in his thoughts that he jumped when Frances slightly tapped him on the shoulder.

"Frannie! I'm working with a sharp knife here, do you want me to cut myself?" he said more startled than angry.

"Sorry, dad." She was trying to figure out what was going on with him. From the very first minute she felt something was on his mind. "What's going on?" she asked straight away and hopped on the kitchen counter as she had done as a little girl.

"That's what you get when you send the kids to college and they take psychology classes," he groaned.

"You're evasive," she said, "but I'll let you out this time."

"Thank you so much, young lady. And while you're here, you can as well help me with making dinner."

Peeling tomatoes and slicing garlic finally brought him back to earth and, after all, Frances was here now. He did not want to spoil their time by behaving like a teenager experiencing his first love. Soon both of them were engaged in a light conversation about college and a million other things. When the meal was ready and the table set, they continued their talk sitting down at the dinner table. Bailey poured them some wine, and Frances only protested slightly when he said that one glass would be enough for her.

"Dad!?"

"Uhm, yeah what did you say?"

"I just said," she started but then changed her mind. "Forget it. What's wrong? I mean, since we finished eating, you have been staring at the telephone and I feel like I've been talking to myself during the last hour."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said. With an apologetic look he reached out and with the back of his fingers, he caressed her cheek slightly before he brushed a straw of her dark hair from her face. She softly took his hand in hers and put it on the table.

"Call her," she said after a second of silence.

"What?" he asked, half amazed half amused, but a long look into her eyes told him that she had more than an idea of what was going on. "You're way too smart for your old man," he sighed.

"I'm your daughter, that's all. And sometimes you forget that I'm a big girl," she said with a soft smile. "Uh, the wine made me sleepy, I think I go to bed soon anyway."

After Frances had walked up to her room, Bailey wandered through the quiet house. He ended up at the hall closet, where he took the crumpled paper from his coat pocket. On his way back, he turned on the stereo and put in a Puccini CD with the volume low. Sitting down on the couch, he stared at her number. Several times he reached for the phone just to stop again. What should he say to her?

He woke up, covered all over in cold sweat. He had fallen asleep on the couch, the note still clutching in his hand. After 1 a.m. Too late to her call now. He felt stiff and cold. He got up and carefully tiptoed through the dark house to his bedroom, where he put Sam's number on his bedside table. He undressed and slid under the bed covers but he just did not warm up. Without switching on the lights, he walked into the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help. The hot water felt good on his sore muscles but instead of warming up, he shivered even more. He tried to cover every inch of his body with warmth, and finally the goose bumps disappeared. After he had dried off, he lay down again but sleep just would not come.

At 3 a.m., he had come to a conclusion: He just couldn't wait any longer. With determination he turned on the light, grabbed his cell phone and dialed the number he had already memorized by staring on it for several hours. When he heard the ringing tone, he thought what he was about to do. He was calling a woman he hadn't seen for over a year until this morning, when they had met for a brief moment like two ships meet on the open sea. She obviously had no idea about his feelings and how could she, since he wasn't even sure about them. And now he was calling her at three in the morning. That was a terrible mistake. He wanted to hang up when a sleepy voice on the other end of the line mumbled something. Too late. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no sound came out. After another long minute of awkward silence, she still hadn't hung up.

"Sorry," he whispered but it was more a gasp.

"It's okay Bail," was all she said.

None of them was able to talk and after a while he heard something that sounded like sobs.

"Sam, are you okay?" he managed to ask. He was so scared that he had blown it. She didn't answer. "I'm so sorry. I... I shouldn't have called."

"I'm glad you did," Sam said with tears in her voice. "I was too scared to call you."

After that, there was another pause filled with silence. Ten minutes neither of them spoke. It almost seemed to be enough for them to hear each other breath. It was enough to make sure the other is alive and somehow close.

"Can I see you?" she suddenly asked. For the whole time they had remained silent, he had been listening to her breath, and his pounding heart seemed to settle in a rhythm matching her breathing. He hardly realized that she had said something. It took him a second to get his thoughts together again.

"Yeah, yeah sure," he stuttered. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow will be fine. Would eight suit you?"

"Yeah, great. Then I'll see you tomorrow."

He hung up, his head still spinning. Two minutes later the phone rang. He still held it in his hand and answered before the second ring. "Yeah?"

"Uh, Bail, we forgot to arrange where we should meet." She hesitated for a moment. "Why don't you just come over to my place. The old address. You still have it?"

"Yeah. At your place then."

"I missed you, Malone. Bye," she said and hung up before he could answer.

So she had moved back to Atlanta, he asked himself. Back to her old home, where she and her daughter Chloe used to live before they moved up to Richmond. After a month or so, he had sent him a postcard from there, telling him that they were okay but without an address. It had been the last time he had heard from her.

He was now more than tired, but the thoughts about Sam did not let him find rest tonight. He got into sweatpants and a shirt and went downstairs. After pouring himself a big scotch, he started rearranging his CD-collection. When he was done with that, he seated himself on the couch with some case files and started working through them. By dawn, sleep finally took hold of him.

The next day, time did not seem to pass. Frances was picked up by some friends, and she planned to spend the afternoon with them. When he had asked her if she would mind to spend the evening alone, she had just grinned and said: "So you called. I'm proud of you, dad. Hope you have fun."

Beads of sweat appeared on his hairline in spite of the air condition. He had been sitting in the car in front of her house for at least 10 minutes now. He felt dizzy, and he desperately tried to figure out what to say to her. His legs felt numb. Another minute, he told himself, his hands still tightly gripping the steering wheel. In the corner of his eyes, he felt something moving behind one of the first floor windows. Maybe she had already seen him. What a ridiculous sight he made.

He took one last deep breath and got out of the car. It felt as if he was walking on cotton. Somehow he made it to the front door but before he even could rise his hand to knock, the door swung open. As Sam was standing in front of him with that mysterious yet shy smile, every line he had worked out in the car was wiped out from his memory.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey, come on in."

When the door closed behind him, he put his hand in the nape of her neck and kissed her slightly on the cheek. He wanted to hold her tight but he was afraid to touch her more than that. He wanted to let go of her afraid of what could happen if he got too close.

"Oh Bailey, I'm so sorry," she whispered. She leaned to his chest, wanting him to hold her and to make all the agonizing doubts vanish. He couldn't draw back, not now when she needed him. He enfolded her in his arms as she put her hands on his back and pulled him close.

Ever so gently, he rubbed her back, trying to soothe her. "It's okay, Sam, it's okay. Everything's okay now," he whispered in her hair. He said it aloud to her, but he was telling that to himself as well. However, as he was holding her so close to his heart, he felt tears well up deep inside of him. They had known each other so well, and the deep trust that had always made their friendship so special had returned. There was no need to put on a mask any longer, no need to hide the tears. They both could finally give way to their feelings.

He was rocking her softly, and as she lay in his arms, he became aware of her scent and the feeling of her body against his. He had not been so close to her for a long time, and now every sensation seemed stronger, the scent sweeter, the skin softer, the eyes deeper. It intoxicated him but his common sense told him to stop right here. He did not dare to take the second step before the first, and having her back in his life was more than for what he had ever hoped. He had carried the love for her with him since the day he confessed it to himself. It was painful and sometimes he had thought it would kill him but for nothing in the world he would have given up that love. He was getting lost in her now. Her physical presence suddenly threatened to overwhelm him.

More abruptly than he wanted, he backed away, his eyes avoiding hers. Sam was irritated for a split-second but she saw the desperate look in his eyes. She let his hands slide off his shoulders, absent-mindedly brushing the spot of his dark-gray suit jacket where her tears had left little stains. Wiping the tears from her face, she cleared her throat. "Uh, sorry, maybe you better come in. No need to stay in the hall all night."

She guided him to the den. "Want some coffee?" she asked, but before he was able to answer she had disappeared into the kitchen. Great, now she's running from me, he thought. Feeling stupid, he sat down on the couch, waiting for her to come back. He glanced at his watch. What was she doing in there? After waiting for another minute he got up and followed her. She was leaning on the fridge, her back turned towards him. She didn't make a sound, but she was quivering.

"Sam? What's going on?"

Trying to get herself together she said: "I know you must have a lot of questions, and you have any right to ask. But I just figured, whatever I'm gonna answer you, it will sound stupid, even to me."

Bailey stepped at her side, putting a hand on her shoulder. "There's no pressure, Sam. Look, I know this is a difficult situation, but I thought we've always been pretty good with talking about stuff like that to each other. I hope that didn't change."

She looked into his eyes. They were calm and soft, and she relaxed a bit. He took her by the hand and led her to the kitchen table where they both sat down. He was still holding her hand in his'. "You don't have to explain anything but if you want to tell me I'm here," he said with a soothing voice. She wanted to close her eyes and listen to it forever. She took a deep breath and started to tell him.

Soon after she had left the VCTF, she and Chloe moved near Richmond, close to where they used to live as long as Tom was alive, and also close to Chloe's grandparents. The change was good for them for a while. They spent a lot of time together, and Chloe worked with a psychologist who helped her deal with what she had been through. After a while though, both were missing Atlanta and the people they had left behind there. Since Sam had not sold the house, they had moved back. That was four months ago.

Bailey had not interrupted her, but as he heard her saying that, he winced inwardly. Sam felt it nevertheless. "I'm so sorry. I wanted to call but I didn't know what to tell you. I was so scared."

He had been staring at the table while she was talking but now he looked right into her water-blue eyes. He let go of her hand, cupped her cheek with his warm hand and smiled. "Sam, I understand. Please don't feel guilty." In fact, he was clueless why she had been scared. He knew only why he still was. He was in love with her, and now that feeling seemed stronger than ever. She tilted her head, thankful for his understanding and longing for his touch. Softly he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"But you know, I'm glad I bumped into you the other day."

The smile came back onto her face. "Yeah, I am very glad about that too." She took his hand and kissed the palm. His heart skipped a beat. Warmth swept like a wave through his body. Didn't she know what that did to him? He pulled his hand back and looked away.

"Bailey, I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"You did nothing wrong, trust me. Oh, by the way, where's Chloe?" he asked trying to change topic.

"She's spending the whole week at the farm with two of her friends. Poor Helen, I wonder how she gets through a week dealing with three teenage girls." They both laughed.

"I'm sure everything's fine. But I really should go home now. It's already pretty late." Now he was the one running away but he was so close to losing control and telling her everything but it would have been wrong. He felt a sharp pain in his heart. "We are both tired and, well, you know, Frances, I want to make sure everything's okay. If you want to talk, you still have the number of my cell phone, right?"

They got up. "I'm glad to have you as a friend. Thank you Bail," she said and hugged him. Oh god, if he could hold her forever. But she had just said it clearly, he was nothing but a friend to her.

"You can call anytime, okay," he said. He turned around and walked out. The air outside was cool and smelled fresh. He shut the door. Every breath he took seemed to burn like fire. Over a year he had been waiting and hoping that she would come back one day. Now that she was here, it hurt even more. How could he really hope that she would feel the same love for him that he felt for her? Driving through Buckhead, he was trying to regain his composure.

He was glad that Frances was not home yet. He was a mess and she would have noticed. She had left a message on the answering machine, telling him that she planned to be home at 11. He smiled. Two years ago, such a call would have been unthinkable. He wrote her a note that he already had gone to bed and pinned it to the refrigerator door. He was so tired, drained by the pain and the effort to control his emotions. He only wanted to forget the pain for a moment. After throwing his jacket on an overstuffed chair, he picked up a tumbler and the half-full bottle of 12year old Jameson, and took it upstairs to the bedroom. Heavily he sat down on the bed, kicking away shoes and removing the tie. He poured himself a large whiskey and emptied the glass in one go. Another one followed. He wasn't proud of getting drunk. How can a grown man do so many stupid things in only one day, he asked himself. He screwed on the top of the whiskey bottle. Still half dressed, he lay back on the bed. Images of Sam invaded his thoughts. He closed his eyes and drifted off.

Sam sat down on the bed beside him, bending over and kissing his forehead. Bailey woke up and the first thing he saw was her radiant smile and her deep blue eyes. He put a hand in the nape of her neck and pulled her face down to him. She giggled and screwed up her nose. He sat up and pulled her gently on his lap. He took her face in his hands and started covering it with soft wet kisses. Her hands slid under his shirt and started roaming over his chest. Slowly his lips moved down to her chin and to her neck, his kisses getting more intense. His hands moved down her neck, along the shoulders. Slowly he lowered her on her back. With nervous fingers, he unbuttoned the top of her pajamas, lips were following hands. She did the same with his shirt, sliding it from his shoulders. Her fingertips moved in light slow circles from his hands up his arms.

A ring woke him from his dream. His mouth was dry from the whiskey and he was breathing heavily. He reached for his cell phone on the drawer.

"Malone."

"Hey." It was Sam. He covered the mouthpiece. The second he had heard her voice he became aware that he had just had a very vivid dream about her, to say the least. He felt embarrassed that he had so little control.

"Sam! What's going on?"

"You said I could call anytime." Although she did not sob, he noticed that she was crying.

"Yeah. And I meant it. What's wrong, kid?"

"I missed you so much. Oh Bailey, you've been so sweet and understanding, I don't deserve that."

It broke his heart to hear her say something like that. She was always so hard on herself. "That's not true," he said. He wanted to tell her so much more but he still was afraid to cross the line. Was she still there?

"Bailey, I need you. I didn't want you to leave today." He didn't know what to say. "I love you, Bailey," she whispered when he had not answered. Finally, the words he had been waiting for so long.

"I'll always be your friend, Sam." His voice sounded hoarse.

She sighed. "I just need to know you're here."

"Okay, Sam. I'm right here with you but I think you're maybe just a little tired. Tomorrow everything's gonna be better. Do you think you can sleep?"

"I don't know." She sounded like a little girl now.

"You know what? I will stay on the phone till you are asleep okay? And if you rather want to talk, I'm here." He wanted to get up, drive to her house and enclose her in his arms.

"Okay," she said.

Bailey tried to stay awake, but he had trouble keeping his eyes open and from time to time he nodded off just to wake up again with a start a few seconds later. After an hour, she seemed to have fallen asleep. Her breath sounded deep and steady. He hoped that she had found some rest.

"Sam?" he whispered, anxious to wake her up.

"Uhu?"

"Still awake, huh?"

No answer.

Forget it, I'm not gonna wait any more, he thought. He got up and, cradling the cell phone under his chin, he was trying to put on his shoes. "Okay, sweetheart, I'm gonna come over, okay. I can't watch that any longer. I'm gonna be there in 15 minutes. I hang up now, okay, and I'll be with you in a few. Bye." He waited for a reply, protest, any reaction but she remained silent.

He ran downstairs, and the closed door of Frannie's room told him that she had come home. He tried to make as little noise as possible, and he thought it would take him forever to get outside to the car. He drove as fast as he could, hoping that at 2:30 a.m. the police wouldn't bother about traffic checks. In about ten minutes he had reached Sam's. When he looked over, he saw her already standing in the dimly lit doorway. She looked so beautiful, in her worn out jeans and barefoot. He ran towards her. He didn't hesitate to hug her. When she lay in his arms he felt relieved.

"Oh Sam, I'm sorry, I just had to come," he hissed breathlessly. "I think we need to talk."

He put one arm around her shoulder. With the other hand he took hers and led her inside. She didn't resist. In the den he softly pushed her down on the couch and sat next to her, never letting go of her hand. "I, I had to come back. I have to tell you something," he said, nervously glancing away. He was searching for the right words.

"It's good you came back, Bail. I have to tell you something too."

"No, please, Sam, let me," he said with a serious expression on his face, taking both her hands in his, and their fingers entangled. "I can't spoil this now, it's too important." Sam nodded.

"Sam, I'm confused. These last two days, well, that was a bit much." He couldn't look into her eyes, so he stared intensely on their hands. "I don't know how to say it right."

Sam seemed to instinctively understand what direction he was going to. "It's okay, there's nothing you can do wrong here."

He laughed, and, raising his head, their eyes finally met. "Okay, guess now you won't let me out of this again?"

"Nope," she said with an encouraging smile.

"Phew, okay." Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath. "You don't have to answer me but, well, I carried that around for quite some time now, and I figure I won't get a better chance. Over one year ago, you have been in the hands of that lunatic. And as I had been facing the fact that I could lose you, I realized something. I guess it was there long before, I'm not sure for how long. I guess I was only able to realize it when it was almost too late." He paused again.

"Bailey, what are you talking about?" she asked puzzled.

"Okay, you're right, I've beaten about the bush long enough. What I realized is, well, I, I love you, Sam." His voice sounded edgy.

"Yeah, I know Bail, I love you too," she said.

"No, that's not what I mean." He glanced over her shoulder, avoiding her questioning look. "I mean, I'm in love with you, I've been in love for you for a long time, actually."

She slid one hand out of his grip and put it on his cheek. With soft force, she made him look right into her eyes. Then, slowly, she leaned forward. She stopped for a moment, their lips so close that they could feel each other's warm breath. It was as if they would step over the edge of a cliff and suddenly was able to fly. Letting down all defenses, he got closer, and carefully, anxiously, he started kissing her upper lip caressing it with his lips. First, she remained still, holding her breath. Then her hand wandered to the back of his head and then she responded to his soft caresses. Their kiss seem to last forever.

Breathlessly he backed off a bit. "What are we doing here?" he whispered. "That's crazy!"

"Shhhh," she said and put a finger on his lips.

"I've dreamt about that many nights, Sam," he hissed, his lips so close to her ear that they touched her hair a bit. It tickled. He slipped away from her. He glanced at her with a soft smile, his eyes sparkling. "You stay right where you are, okay?"

Sitting cross-legged on the couch, she watched him walk over to the fireplace where he started building a fire. He arranged a blanket and some pillows in front of it. He got up and walked towards the kitchen, glancing back at Sam.

"Don't worry, Bailey. I won't go anywhere."

He rummaged through the kitchen, looking for some champagne but couldn't find any. He peeked through the door. "You don't have by chance champagne or anything?"

"Uh, not that I know. But I figure we can go without it."

"Mhh, yeah, think so," he said with a big grin, then he walked back to the fireplace. Squatting in front of it, he rearranged some logs. Sam had risen from the couch and without making a sound she had walked behind him and got down on her knees. He had not seen her coming, but he could feel her closeness. Resting her head on his back, she draw in his smell of fresh sweat and the hint of a cigar smoked some time ago. He shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"No." He moved to sit at her side with drawn up legs. Their faces close, cheek to cheek, but not touching, eyes shut and yet able to see the other clearly. He spoke softly but more than she heard his voice she felt the words against her ear. "Sam, my love," he said, and it sounded like a sad familiar melody, "you made me discover love in a way I haven't know it before. The hope to be with you some day kept me alive. I didn't know that this old heart of mine had such a love in it. It was waiting for you all my life to be set free." He moved his face a little closer. "I love you so much," he whispered soundless, but she heard it aloud.

Slowly she leaned her cheek on his', her trembling voice a breath of air that invisibly moved the hair on his temples. "Ever since I've left I've tried to remove my past. I've tried to do that with you too, Bailey, and with the feelings I had for you. It just hurt too much. It was as if I was trying to cut out a piece of myself. I had to come back. And then you were so close and yet out of reach because I was too afraid. It made me happy for a while just to know that you are near but it was an illusion to think that I could go on like that. I'm happy that fate finally had some mercy with me when our paths crossed. I love you Bailey," she said under soft kissed that traced the line of his cheekbone.

"Shhhh, we don't have to be afraid any more." He put his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap. Her back resting against his chest, she felt every breath he took. She turned her head, and the dancing flames made his eyes look like peaty old malt whisky. Suddenly it was easy to let go of any control, knowing that he was there to catch her. His hand was wandering over her body and, even through the fabric of her clothes he could feel her soft skin under his fingertips. "You are so beautiful," he said amazed. "I adore you."

Sam took his had and kissed the back of his fingers. "Oh Bail," she sighed, overwhelmed by his love. As if they had done it many times, they undressed each other. The room was filled with the sound of the crackling fire and their heavy breathing. Being caught in the here and now, they made love in the magic of the moment.

The fire had burnt down long ago when they came to rest in the hour of dawn, entangled in the blankets. They were not exhausted, they just felt so comfortable together, body to body, smelling, tasting, feeling, holding each other. His hand circling on her stomach, Bailey's look became distant for a moment.

"What's going on behind those beautiful eyes, my handsome?"

He laughed. "Praying," he said, and bending down he kissed her deeply. "I was asking that this will last forever. And I said 'thank you' for a second chance."

"That's why we are here." She was trying to read his face. "We both were finally able to believe in us, all we needed was faith in our love. I'm very happy now, so happy that it almost hurts. Today, Bailey, you helped me find the peace I've been looking for many years. I feel like I'm eased of a burden I've carried with me too long to remember how it was living without it."

"I wish we wouldn't have had to go through all of this to end up here," he said and laid his head on her shoulder. He didn't quite understand why, but suddenly he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "Why have I been silent all these years?" He mourned for the lost years.

"I don't know, Bail. I know I trusted you and respected you, not just as boss, but as a true friend. I still do." Tenderly, she dried a silent tear with her fingers. "You know, I think you've shown me pieces of you others never got to see. I thank you that you share those parts with me, Bailey." She rolled on her side and cradled his head in her arms.

"Sorry," he mumbled a bit embarrassed. He cleared his throat. "So, what's gonna happen next?" He drew back and watched her face intensely.

"Uh, don't know, I'm hungry. What about you?" She grinned.

"No, Sam, seriously. Where is this leading to?"

"Yeah, I know what you meant. You know, with you I feel whole. I love you so much, Bailey. I can't imagine my life without you, and honestly, I don't want to." She turned on her side and facing him, she put a hand on his shoulder. "Let's just try to take it step by step, okay? I mean, we're just at the start and I'm looking forward to everything that's ahead."

"Yeah. You know, I try not to be scared but, honestly, I am a little."

"Yeah, so am I. I don't say it will always be easy. We have both a lot of things to deal with but, you know, from that point on I know we will face everything together."

"I love you, Sam," he said, pulling the blanket over both of them. They were lying face to face, holding hands for a long time. The sun already lit the room when Bailey shifted with growing uneasiness. His thigh felt numb and his right shoulder hurt. Why now? Why had that wound to remind him of Jack in this moment? Jack was dead and yet he still seemed to have control over their lives. "Oh boy, I think I'm way to old for lying on the floor all day," he said groaning.

"Bailey! You're not old," she said. For her he was perfect anyway. She noticed that he was trying to find a comfortable position. "What is it?" She circled the scar with her index finger. "It's Jack, isn't it? Is he still standing between us?"

He sat up, trying to get his thoughts together. "Sam, I don't know, we've never talked about that. I mean not about that part. You know, while he kept you prisoner," he paused, glancing away.

"Do we really have to talk about it now?" she asked.

"Yeah I think you have to know. Well, anyway, while we were searching for you we just played every theory to find you. And at one point we figured out what his obsession was. He wasn't just obsessed by you. He knew that I wanted to protect you, maybe he even knew that I loved you, I don't know. Everything he did was to show me that I am not able to protect you. It was as if he showed me that I'm unworthy of you. Maybe he was right. So many people had to die because I've failed. And I don't know if I ever can get over that."

"You know, I've dealt with that guilt many days of my life. We both know that it's irrational but I guess that doesn't make it any easier, right?"

"No," he said with a haunted look in his eyes.

"Please, don't let him win, Bailey. I know together we can make this happen if we really want."

"I want, Sam." He kissed her again, but it was more than a kiss, it was a promise. "So, you still hungry?"

"Yeah," she said with a sweet smile.

"You know, I should be at home when Frances gets up. She, uh, she's a smart girl," he said looking away a bit embarrassed.

"Yeah she is."

"Okay, so she probably figures out what's going on anyway, right? What do you think, would you like to come home with me?"

"Yes, Bailey, I'd love that. But well, don't you think we should take a shower first?"

"Hmmm." He had that meaningful grin on his face. "Do you think if we shower together we will ever make it out of the house?"

She laughed. "You're a mess!"

Bailey got up and pulled her up. "Let's go, sweetheart."

**THE END**   


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Copyright © 2000 by [isis_whit][1]

  


   [1]: mailto:isis_whit@yahoo.de



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